


My Belladonna Baby

by lielabell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Anger, Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Pain, Unhealthy Relationships, sad times abound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:31:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek knows what should happen next, what ought to happen if he were a good, decent person. He should tell Stiles's he's sorry, yet a-fucking-gain, he should calm the other man down, tell him that next time will be different or some other bullshit. But Derek isn't good or decent and Derek doesn't do any of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Belladonna Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [portions_forfox](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=portions_forfox).



> Written for [portions_forfox](http://portions-forfox.livejournal.com/)'s Teen Wolf Comment Ficathon. The prompt was: **derek/stiles** ; _i don't like you but i love you - you treat me badly, i love you madly_ ...and then dark!fic happened.

They are the very definition of a bad relationship. Cruel, hurtful. Nasty just for the hell of it. It's dark, this thing between them, made up of anger and disappointment and pain. So much pain. But they can't let it go, can't move on. They cling to each other because that's all they have left. All that remains of what once was a friendship, a life together. 

Of the two, Derek's the more desperate one. He tries, good lord, how he tries, to make up for all his mistakes, all the damage he's done. He soothes when he can, lets Stiles rage when he can't, and does his best to even the score between them. Though, if he's honest, he knows he can't. He'll never be able to make it right, give Stiles back the life he should have had.

This go round it's fairies. Because why the fuck not. Fairies, who are evil and nasty and nothing at all like the pretty, prancing things you see on kids TV. Fairies who have decided to kick Derek where it hurts the most by taking aim at Stiles. Never mind that Stiles can barely stand Derek on good days and flat out abhors him the rest of the time. 

So yeah. The fairies go after Stiles and fuck up his life some more and give him yet another reason to glare at Derek when he sees him on the street, yet another reason to avoid having anything to do with him. 

When it's over, Derek does his best to make amends, does his best to patch up yet another hole in the fabric of their "relationship." Stiles, for his part, does what Stiles does best: he ignores Derek's calls for three weeks, then shows up unannounced at two in the morning, drunk again and ranting about werewolf shit stinking up his life. 

Derek knows what should happen next, what ought to happen if he were a good, decent person. He should tell Stiles's he's sorry, yet a-fucking-gain, he should calm the other man down, tell him that next time will be different or some other bullshit. But Derek isn't good or decent and Derek doesn't do any of that. Instead Derek growls and snarls and slams Stiles up against the first flat surface he can find. They tear at each other, mentally and physically, ripping chunks out of each other's psyches as easily as they claw up each other's backs. 

They tumble together, all hot mouths and tongues and teeth, tugging shirts off and pants down, leaving a pile of detritus in their wake. The door to the bedroom slams open as they shove each other in, teeth nipping at lips, hands grabbing tight, pressing their bodies together as they stumble their way to the bed. Stiles shoves Derek away, pawing in a drawer until he finds what they need. He fingers himself open, panting and cussing and saying things so filthy that Derek's eyes flash red. 

Finally, _finally_ , Stiles is ready, gives the okay, and Derek’s on him, in him, a second later. His hips snap forward, his hands turning to claws as Stiles arches up into it, pushes back against him, begs for it with gritted teeth and angry, angry eyes. 

"I hate this," Stiles says between kisses. "I fucking hate it. And, god fucking damn it, I _hate_ you," And then he cries out, moans as he finds his release. Derek holds him close, buries his face in Stiles's shoulder, mouths at his collarbone as he ruts between the younger man's legs. "I hate you," Stiles says again, voice soft and broken. 

Derek kisses him hard, wishing to god he didn't hear the truth in the other man's words. 

Stiles jerks away the moment Derek's done, his lips pulled back in a sneer. He says something cutting about needing a shower, needing to wash the stink of dog off his body, and then disappears into the bathroom, lock snicking into place. 

Derek pulls off the condom, ties the end and tosses it into the trash. He sits on the bed, feet flat on the floor, hands clenching at the mattress, head bowed. "I don't hate you," he whispers. "And I don't hate this. But I understand why you do." 

He lets himself have a minute to dwell, to fucking wallow. Then he sucks in a deep breath and stands up, forcing himself into pajama pants. He gathers up their clothes, folds Stiles’s neatly and set them outside of the bathroom door. 

Derek’s cool and calm and collected by the time Stiles leaves the bathroom, doesn't say a word while the other man dresses, just watches him, same as he always does. Stiles mutters some more about fucking werewolves fucking up his fucking life as he shoves his legs into his pants and pulls his shirt over his head. Then he's glaring at Derek, eyes bloodshot and vicious, body reeking of disgust. 

Derek opens his mouth to say who the hell knows what but is cut off by an angry hiss from Stiles. "Don't," he snaps, hands balled into fists. "Just... don't."

And Derek bows his head, slumps a little. Because this is what they are now. This is _all_ they are. Thanks to Derek's bad choices and fucking twists of fate. He doesn't watch Stiles go, keeps his eyes averted, but he can't stop the mournful howl that escapes him as the door slams shut. He pretends that Stiles can’t hear it, that Stiles wouldn’t know what it meant if he could. He pretends for all he’s fucking worth, because if he doesn’t, he’ll break down and fucking cry.

This is what they are now, he tells himself, this is what they do. 

Because Jackson is gone and Lydia is gone and Erica is gone and Scott might as well be gone too. Because there's nothing left of the life they once had, of the future they thought they would share. Nothing but bitterness and pain and a razor wire relationship that cuts them both, rips them apart even as it binds them even tighter together.


End file.
